


Strategy of Love

by RedKari



Category: Final Fantasy: Brave Exvius
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13600101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKari/pseuds/RedKari
Summary: Sometimes, Laswell often wondered which god made Nichol… Whichever one it was, they were a master artist. After seeing all of Nichol’s flawless features wrapped up into a perfect human package, Lasswell could only applaud the work of the god, because the result of all the hard work that was put into molding this man was a handsome yet kind stud with a dazzling ability to come up with an excellent plan of action within minutes.Was there a strategy that Lasswell could use to capture the affection of a man like that?





	Strategy of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PiplupTheCursed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiplupTheCursed/gifts).



> I took so long!! I'm so sorry @PiplupTheCursed!! When I finally finished it, school took it's sweet revenge and deprived me of revise and editing time. I hope you still like it! 
> 
> ...Forgive me for the cringe, pls...
> 
> Oh, yeah! Comments are appreciated!! Good critiques are always welcome! Thanks, much, very, RedKari  
> P.S. If any typos or anything is present, just comment and I'll fix it

“Lid…” Lasswell turned his head sharply, making electric eye contact with Lid, who had been staring at him for a while now. “Do you need something from me?” He asked, irritation obvious in his tone of voice.

“Gil for my thoughts?” She prompted, raising a finely shaped red eyebrow at him. She wiggled her body in a suggestive manner, grinning at her stoic friend.

Lasswell completely ignored her blatant imploring, choosing instead to ask her what was weighing so heavily on her mind that she felt the need to lay her eyes on him for such a vast period of time.

“Oh, was I staring?” She asked, pretending to be sheepish. “I was just thinking about the way you are always staring,” Lid’s face contorted from her fake shy look to her well known sadistically gleeful expression, “ _at Nichol._ ”

Lasswell looked at her for a long moment, flabbergasted, before he attempted to appear unfazed. “I don't know what you mean.” He said, knowing that Lid was a lot keener than she let on and that he certainly wasn’t hoodwinking her.

“Oh, Lasswell! You know what I mean! You're always looking at him with heart eyes, and when he comes up with a swift and sound strategy for a battle, you look as in awe as a toddler when they see a chocobo.” Lid passionately clasped her hands together, fluttering her eyelashes and making the awestruck face she claimed Lasswell made when Nichol was around.

Her marvelous impersonation was met with a defiant glare.

“I do not. I just… _respect_ him. That's all.”

“Mmhm.” Lid gave him a lopsided grin, her golden eyes shining with amusement. “Well, more importantly, one of my mechabos requires repair. I just came here to inform some lovelorn knight that his oh-so-handsome strategist is asking for him. He’s in his tent, per usual.” And then she left without allowing Lasswell another word, opening the tent with a not so elegant flourish.

Sighing, Lasswell sunk into his cushion, brooding over how embarrassing it was to let his emotions take so much control that even their team grease monkey noticed.

 _Ugh…_ He thought bitterly to himself as he got back on his feet and made his way out of his tent and over to Nichol’s.

When he reached the large two-person tent that Nichol sometimes shared with Jake (if the latter was too lazy to set up own), Lasswell hesitated. Should he try and act differently, in order to avoid being noticed by Nichol as well? Had Nichol already noticed, and was hiding the fact he knew in order to prevent embarrassing the Grandshelt knight? Either way, Laswell had to go in, or else things would get even worse for him because someone would think he went missing or something and send a search party--yeah, the embarrassment of that was almost tenfold than that of this whole emotion fiasco.

Lasswell slowly opened the camouflage tent flap, and gingerly pushed his head in, his long raven hair swaying as he did.

“Lasswell,” Nichol said, his voice like velvet as he gave the Grandshelt knight a small, kind smile. “I have some plans I would like to - oh, not again...!” Nichol scrambled to quickly collect the pens that slipped from his grasp, his arm hitting into his ink bottle in the short moment of chaos. He looked up at Lasswell with embarrassed puppy dog eyes and for a minute, it almost felt as if he had planned for that to happen.

“Excuse me, Lasswell. I had wanted to go over these plans with you, but my ink spilled on most of it. I will have to redo what I had drawn out, but would you care to have some tea with me outside? I can discuss what I had created out under the stars. Might be more comfortable out there anyway.”

Lasswell simply nodded, and Nichol smiled at him.

The raven trailed behind the tactician, following him out to the grass field, where there was already a blanket and a few pillows laid on the soft and lush green grass from the other team members.

“Come hither,” Nichol beckoned Lasswell over with a slight wave of his hand.

Lasswell tentatively made his way over to the cushioned area and tried to get settled down, positioning himself between two pillows for support as he snuck a very unsubtle glance at the tactician.

Both men were wearing casual clothes, Lasswell’s set a soft blue and gray top with half sleeves and dark gray sweats. Nichol wore a light brown short-sleeved shirt that had a kitten coeurl reading a tome on the left breast pocket and a pair of black plaid pajama pants, and despite the childlike pajamas, Lasswell still had to admit that Nichol looked as hot as always.

“So,” Nichol begun, snuggling contently on a green pillow. “I have this plan for approaching the behemoth trio. I believe that with this plan, we will be able to not only conquer them but also earn some extras bonuses from the battle.”

“I'm listening,” Lasswell said, eager to hear what Nichol had come up with since the raven was contemplating a strategy for the same exact fight.

And Lasswell was listening. For a while. And then his steely focus faltered under the attractiveness that was Nichol.

The way his wavy silver hair with its light tint of blue caught the moonlight and reflected it mesmerized Lasswell. Nichol’s jawline was sharp enough to kill, and Lasswell couldn't help but want to run his fingers across it. The tactician’s cerulean eyes sparkled like a disco ball and by the Six, Laswell could go on and on. Sometimes, Laswell often wondered which god made Nichol… Whichever one it was, they were a master artist. After seeing all of Nichol’s flawless features wrapped up into a perfect human package, Lasswell could only applaud the work of the god, because the result of all the hard work that was put into molding this man was a handsome yet kind stud with a dazzling ability to come up with an excellent plan of action within minutes.

Was there a strategy that Lasswell could use to capture the affection of a man like that?

“Lasswell?” A buttery voice shook the knight from his thoughts of pure and utter smittenness. “Are you paying attention?” Nichol tilted his head to the side, his blue silver locks falling gently as he did so.

“Y-yes,” Lasswell said, his stutter near invisible, but the other man noticed it, and a thin light blue eyebrow was raised at the Grandshelt knight.

“You weren't, were you?” Nichol said with a smile, knowing he was spot on.

Laswell blushed, scolding himself in the back of his mind for being so obvious. “I’m genuinely sorry, Nichol. I was trying to listen. My mind simply got sidetracked.” He said, hoping Nichol didn't notice his stare as well.

Nichol shook his head. “It’s okay. We can discuss it another day.” The silverette shifted forward, slightly invading Lasswell’s personal space. The raven’s blush increased tenfold at the closeness of proximity, but he didn’t move away.

“Lasswell,” The tactician breathed, more of a happy sigh than the start of a sentence. Lasswell resisted the urge to grip his chest at the feeling of his heart melting when Nichol said his name like that, and he unconsciously leaned closer, strung along by the red thread of love. “Tell me, what’s your favorite constellation?”

Lasswell’s brain failed him at that moment, as if it expected a romantic pick up line but got a genuine question in its place. “My, uh, _what_?”

Nichol chuckled, his laugh as melodic as an angel singing. “Your favorite constellation.” He repeated.

“Oh…” Lasswell took a minute to recover, tapping his chin as he thought about all the star patterns he knew. “I think I’m going to have to say Delphinus.”

“Why the dolphin, exactly?” Nichol inquired, the choice not seeming much like Lasswell’s type of constellation. “Feels awfully unfitting for you.”

Lasswell smiled a smile somewhat reminiscent of a child--one who knew a secret that no one else did. His secret was, of course, that the dolphin had some personal qualities that brought forth thoughts of the Olderian soldier everytime Lasswell pondered about it.

“The dolphin was dutiful,” Lasswell began to explain. “In some of the myths, he brought a beautiful wife to Poseidon in the form of the nymph Amphitrite, and in another, he saves Arion, a poet. A wonderfully selfless creature, in my opinion.”

Nichol rubbed his chin, and Lasswell watched, slightly frustrated that he was unable to read the other male’s mind. “Hmm… That makes sense. It certainly seems more fitting for you now.”

“And which would be your favorite, Nichol?” Nichol grinned at Lasswell, before looking up at the vast midnight blue cloak with all its silver gems scattered across it above them.

“I was hoping you would ask that.” He said, a small pleasant look on his face as he began to describe his favorite sight in the night sky. “Libra, for sure.”

Lasswell looked at him with wide and curious eyes, silently urging the tactician to continue.

“As I’m sure you know, Libra revolves completely around the weighing scales that the goddess of justice, Dike, carries around. Without them, how would justice be served in the Greek world of myths?” Nichol asked, not prompting discussion, just knowing that Lasswell, an honorable Grandshelt knight, would understand why this constellation was meaningful.

“I see…” And Lasswell did see... because Libra was showing tonight.

“Also,” Nichol said, eyeing the raven-haired knight as he spoke slowly. “It reminds me of you--an essential factor towards the seemingly impossible goal of true justice.”

Lasswell’s eyes left the sky and landed on the smiling face of Nichol. “I, uh, what…? You see me as something that important?” He asked, his voice sounded as close to joking as an ice knight could get, but Nichol was very obviously not amused.

He lost his smile, and his eyes were dull with sadness, rather than gleaming with joy as they were earlier. “You don’t value yourself enough,” he muttered. “I know Rain is a great knight who can summon visions, and is worthy of both respect and fear. But you are too. How long will it take you realize that?” Nichol said, leaning forward as he asked the last part.

Lasswell stared at him blankly, and his mind frantically tried to understand how it should be responding; it decided on undecided confusion. The conversation changed pace far too quickly and drastically for him to find an appropriate reaction. He had heard many times before that he was just as good as Rain, even from Rain himself, but he had never believed it. And why should he? Rain was a god amongst men in Lasswell’s eyes, just like Sir Reagan. Someone who was to be protected no matter what.

And of course, Nichol was the same.

Someone like Lasswell isn’t good enough to be worth protecting - he was only good enough for doing the protecting and sacrificing what he needed for the sake of others, and he did a crappy job at that anyway.

Those three were on a whole other level, dimension, plane than Lasswell. If Sir Reagan was an all-powerful, yet absent Zeus, then Rain was a caring and sweet Kratos, and Nichol was a thoughtful and loving Apollo.

“You couldn’t possibly believe that I’m on the same level as you guys.” Lasswell murmured, his voice quiet, and his head lowered in his silent self-loathing.

Blue eyes stared at Lasswell, seeing right through him. “Lasswell... You are a kind and considerate knight, who deserves everything this world and every other world has to offer. Don't let your insecurities chain you down.”

Lasswell’s eyebrows furrowed. Where was Nichol going with this? Could it be he was so disappointed with Lasswell's performance in battle that he felt the need to give him a pep talk?

He turned to Nichol, and before he could open his mouth to say anything, there were soft lips pressed against his.

The kiss was gentle, but the energy of pure passion drove Nichol, and he did his best to convey what he was feeling. If words don’t work, then actions will most certainly, right?

Addled, Lasswell locked eyes with Nichol, who didn’t flinch and stared right back at him. The tactician's turquoise crystals of eyes looked into the knight’s royal blue sea with nothing but love and affection in their depths.

Unable to handle such intense eye contact, the raven squeezed his eyes shut. Nichol, receiving no indication of displeasure or a deterrent from the other, continued his pursuit and Laswell found himself falling backward as Nichol softly shoved him down.

When a tongue demanded entrance, Lasswell parted his lips, knowing somewhere in his seemingly dormant mind that he shouldn’t let this happen.

Smoothly, Nichol took Lasswell’s offer, slipping his tongue into the raven’s mouth. He climbed on top of the Grandshelt knight, and Lasswell responded in kind by grabbing onto the back of Nichol’s kitty coeurl shirt.

When Lasswell let out a sweet little gasp, Nichol found himself getting a little too excited, and had to pull back. He looked at Lasswell for a long moment, admiring his beauty.

“Do you understand?” Nichol asked, panting a little. “I know that the both of us aren’t the best at expressing through words, so why don’t we try expressing through actions?”

Lasswell glanced up, confused. Both he and Nichol so used to masking their emotions for the sake of their jobs and now, Nichol was expressing something so foreign to them both that the raven wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take it.

“I-I don’t… Nichol… What are you trying to say?” Lasswell asked. Nichol looked slightly distraught, the same way Lasswell probably looked, and how he sure as hell felt.

“I’m trying to say that _I love you, Lasswell._ And I want you to love yourself.” Nichol said, leaning down, and kissing the Grandshelt knight again, but this time on his forehead.

Lasswell was frozen. Love? Was Nichol telling him he felt that same chest tightening feeling that the raven felt when Nichol smiled at others? Could it possibly be true that the tactician also experienced that fuzzy feeling that Lasswell found he couldn’t control when Nichol gave him a compliment and told him he was amazed by his battle prowess when Lasswell praised him? Was the magnetic pull that dragged Lasswell toward Nichol truly mutual?

Lasswell had known that he loved Nichol for a very long time, and the instant he realized it, he tried to mask it in a feeble attempt to avoid heartbreak. Now, the fact that the Olderian soldier reflected those same emotions back to him must be some kind of a cruel mirage and the moment he'll try to get a grasp on this love, it would fade away into nothingness, leaving him the cold and empty soldier he could never seem to fit the mold of before.

Honestly speaking, though, Lasswell couldn’t find it in himself _not_ to confess. He had a chance and he should take it, right? Maybe it couldn’t possibly hurt Lasswell anymore than burying his feelings in the weeping depths of his heart.

“I… I love you too.” Lasswell murmured shyly, anxious despite already getting a solid confession from the object of his obsession. “I've loved you for a long while.” Admitting it to himself as well as Nichol.

He looked up to see the tactician’s face and was once again awestruck by how god-like Nichol was.

 _Oh,_ who knew that moonlight could make a person glow so vibrantly? Wait, maybe Nichol always had that surreally beautiful aura around him? Lasswell didn’t know. All he knew is that Nichol looked like, well, an absolute deity.

Lasswell could recognize those aristocratic features as the tell-tale sign of a human that was beyond mortal. There was just simply no way a man of such elegance could be a human.

“ _Oh, god_ ,” Nichol breathed, leaning closer to Lasswell, and giving him an Eskimo kiss. “Do you mean it?” he asked, cupping the knight’s face gently, his blue eyes sparkling with electric joy.

“Yes, I do.” Lasswell smiled, reinforcing his confirmation.

Nichol grinned happily before kissing Lasswell again, this time on his lips. Powered by his reciprocated feelings of passion and desire, the silver-haired male guided Lasswell into an intricate dance between their tongues. Laswell let out small moans into the kiss, making Nichol groan in response. He didn't give Laswell a single break, expecting him to breathe through his nose. He pulled away only when Lasswell pressed his hands on his chest, and pushed without much force.

Nichol took a minute to speak, his eyes caught on the small string of drool on the edge of Lasswell's lips from their kiss. “What?” Nichol asked when he regained himself, patient and wondering if he was moving too fast. “Is my pacing bad?”

Lasswell shook his head ‘no,’ murmuring quietly, “My tent… Not out here.”

“Oh, right… You’re right…” Nichol laced his fingers between Lasswell’s, helping him up and leading him into the tent. He turned to zip up the folds of the tent, and when he rotated around to face Lasswell, the other was already disrobing. The raven shredded his shirt and pulled a hair tie off his wrist to pull his hair into a loose bun.

Turned-on by Lasswell’s eagerness, Nichol crawled over to the graceful raven, running his index finger down the toned back of the Grandshelt knight, causing Lasswell to shudder.

Lasswell looked over his shoulder and threw a lusty look at Nichol, making the tactician forget how to use words, reduced only to watching Lasswell’s lips move as he spoke.

“In my bag, somewhere between all the potions and such, there should be a salve. Retrieve it, and we will use it as lube, okay?” Nichol nodded, finding the salve, and placing it down by Lasswell’s shirt before watching the adorable Grandshelt knight wriggle out of his last article of clothing.

When Lasswell was out of all of his clothes, Nichol lovingly put his arms around the waist of his comrade-turned-lover. He licked and nipped at Lasswell’s nape, making a few particularly deep bites, just to ensure he made clear marks that indicated Lasswell was already committed to someone, should anybody try and take him away. He kissed his way to a blush-red ear, and gave a long, slow lick to the outer shell, eliciting a breath hitch from the blushing raven.

“Nichol…” Lasswell whined, turning in his lover’s arms to face him. Nichol smiled, pleased to the bright red color on the cheeks of the Grandshelt knight. “You wish for me to start, right?” Lasswell nodded, impatiently tugging at Nichol’s shirt.

Nichol grinned at the beautiful man in his arms, before complying with the other man’s wish, gently pushing Lasswell away to strip off his own clothes. He reached for the salve and was about to coat his fingers in it before he thought better. He pushed it into Lasswell’s hand, earning a confused look from the raven that was slowly overridden by comprehension.

“You want me to do it?” Lasswell asked, the idea sparking two very different reactions from him; his widened eyes the sign of his embarrassment, and the twitch of his half-hard cock the sign of his arousal. Nichol took Lasswell’s erection in hand, giving a rough tug for each word in his sentence, “Yes… I want to you finger yourself for me.” He said, with a feral grin so unlike him.

Lasswell whimpered in response, ill-prepared for the dick tugging (both literally and figuratively).

“Are you going to do it,” Nichol asked, using his left hand to cup Lasswell’s balls, giving them a small squeeze that made the raven buck his hips and let out a breathy whine. “Or will I have to?” Briefly, Lasswell wondered how Nichol got so dominant and demanding when he was normally just a sassy, super analytical blunderbuss. Honestly speaking, though, Lasswell was seriously starting to think that he kind of (really) liked Nichol showing some assertiveness.

“I’ll do it, alright…?” Lasswell moaned, pushing Nichol away so he could get a break before Nichol decided to continue bullying him.

Nichol smiled. “Good. Better spread them, then.”

Lasswell lied down on his back and did as Nichol recommended, lathering the salve onto his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he inched his hand between his legs, grimacing at the salve dripping on his thighs. He hesitantly pushed his index finger inside, furrowing his eyebrows at the uncomfortable feeling.

Nichol watched with mute fascination, silent as Lasswell pushed another finger in, scissoring himself. Lasswell was finally starting to enjoy it, getting a little bit more fervent in his actions as he shoved his fingers in with a little more heat.

Soft squelching noises filled the tent, partnered with the quiet moans from the raven.

Nichol, honestly kind of wishing he would’ve just fingered Lasswell himself, grabbed Lasswell's wrist, and pulled his fingers out, confusing the raven, before he shoved two of his own fingers deep into Lasswell’s slicked up entrance.

“Ah! N-Nichol!” Nichol grinned, thanking Fortuna for his luck. He rubbed his fingers against that sweet spot again, making Lasswell tremble violently.

“N-N-Nichol, stop, I already p-p-p-prepared! Just p-put it in already!” Nichol leaned down, pressing on Lasswell's bundle of nerves gently. “You sure you don't wanna be teased some more?” He asked in a sultry whisper. 

“N-no!” Lasswell moaned, rolling his hips eagerly. “I want i-it in.” He said, suddenly turning into the assertive one.

Nichol sighed, vowing that next time he'd tease Lasswell properly. “Okay, okay.” He said, pulling out his fingers and giving Lasswell a kiss on the forehead.

He allowed Lasswell a quick breather while he retrieved the lube and rubbed some on his erection. He took a minute to get himself together; this was finally it. He didn't want to seem like he was over exaggerating by being too thrilled, but all those days wasted obsessively lusting over and craving the love of this man were now paying off, and he was finally going to be able to be with him. Not as comrades, but as lovers. When he felt like he could handle himself like a gentleman, he crawled back to Lasswell.

Lasswell enjoyed his short break, eyeing the silverette that was making his way back over to him with a smile that radiated his puppy love.

When he arrived at his destination, Nichol rested his forehead on the raven's. “I'm going to enter now, alright?” The tactician muttered quietly. Laswell whispered an 'okay’ back, the mixture of anxiety and excitement near robbing him of his breath.

Nichol lined himself up, using one to keep Lasswell's legs spread apart and pushed in slowly, taking a deep inhale before stopping and letting Lasswell adjust.

 _When did he get so huge?_ Lasswell thought frantically. Because oh shit, really, he could feel it already--this was going to hurt like a bitch, wasn't it?

“Is it alright if I keep going?” Nichol asked, scared of hurting Lasswell, because how pleasant could getting a dick (especially one of his size if he was honest) possibly be? But jeez, when was the last time Nichol had sex? Laswell was so warm and soft and tight and seriously, _how was he supposed to hold back?_

“Yes… yes, go ahead.” This sort of pain was nothing for Laswell. He had been in so many fights and sustained so much damage that something like this was no big deal.

Nichol pushed in another few inches, before pulling out a little bit and shoving his hips forward, forcing a bit more of his erection into his lover.

“By the Six, Nichol,” Lasswell gasped. “Tell me you're almost fully in...” The raven groaned, everything too much for him to handle. It hurt of course, but it also made him feel several other emotions. Uncomfortable… but good too?

“Almost there, Lasswell.” After a good few more forceful strokes, Nichol was balls deep, and Lasswell was already quivering and exhausted. Nichol didn't even have to move for his dick to press against Lasswell's prostate, and the sensation of Nichol’s cock throbbing was making his head feel dizzy.

“Are you feeling alright?” Nichol asked, leaning over to lick at Lasswell’s neck while he waited for a reply.

“It’s too much,” Lasswell said, pressing on his lower abdomen. “It feels like it's in my stomach.” He said, with a voice of quiet horror.

“Should I pull out?” Inquired the tactician, who had to grit his teeth in an attempt to try not to move. Either he pulled out, or they got started because this limbo was hell for him and he was not planning on staying in it for long.

When Nichol didn't get any response, he gave a small thrust, getting a whimper as an answer. “Should I pull out, Lasswell?” Nichol asked again, already sliding out. Despite their mutual feelings, Nichol wasn't going to have sex with his knight if there was no consent on Lasswell's side.

Lasswell pulled on Nichol's shirt, his face blushing and determined. “D-don’t pull out! My mind was just wandering, and it took me a while to process your question,” Lasswell pleaded, looking up at Nichol with doe eyes.

“Well,” Nichol said with a forceful slam of his hips that ripped a moan out of Lasswell's throat. “If you look at me like that, then how could I resist?” To be perfectly honest, Nichol could barely resist in the first place.

Lasswell had no answer for the obviously rhetorical question, all possible word combinations he could have made lost as Nichol took up a brutal pace.

The raven wrapped his arms around Nichol's neck, holding on to him for dear life. Nichol smirked down at him, his thrusts violent enough to shove Lasswell forward, and Nichol's hands gripping his hips were the only thing preventing that.

Lasswell could have sworn he felt tears pricking his eyes, but he ignored it, choosing instead to be overrun with the flood of pain and pleasure that was attempting to drown him.

It wasn't long before Lasswell was trying to warn Nichol, his orgasm coming quickly upon him. Nichol understood, and with another almost sinister grin, he took Lasswell's aching cock in hand, carelessly pumping him until Lasswell's hips were stuttering, and the raven was desperately moaning.

Lasswell nearly slumped down, but Nichol gave him a kiss on the forehead, muttering “no time for sleep right now, Lasswell.”

“Nichol, Nichol, wait! I-I just c-came!” Nichol smiled happily, pulling almost all the way out before shoving back in. “You did, didn't you, love?” The tactician kissed Lasswell on the nose, not missing a single beat to his rhythm.

The poor raven could only clutch at Nichol's shoulders and go along with the flow until the silverette came. Unfortunately for him, Nichol almost always had stamina to spare.

Before he knew it, Lasswell was hard again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pleasure slowly came over him again. When he finally came again, shivering and shaking in the arms of Nichol, he could feel fatigue trying to tighten its dirty claws on him.

“Nichol… hurry…!” Lasswell whimpered, tired and amazed at how long Nichol could last.

Nichol grunted in response, steadying his hands on Lasswell, before pulling Lasswell up into his lap, forcing his cock deeper into his lover. Lasswell shuddered, resting his head on the tactician's shoulder.

It took far longer than Lasswell would have preferred, but with a good few hard thrusts, Nichol was coming. The raven could only hold on to the pajama shirt Nichol was wearing as the silverette filled him with his seed.

The two of them sat in silence until Nichol pulled Lasswell off his lap, and gently cleaned him off using his shirt and water magic.

After throwing his dirty shirt into the pile of discarded and long forgotten clothes, Nichol pulled some blankets out of a neatly folded stack in the corner of the tent and lied by Lasswell, wrapping the both of them into the soft, plush blanket.

Lasswell snuggled into Nichol’s arms, calm and sated. “You-” Lasswell said, looking up at Nichol with a grin. “-have too much energy. You nearly killed me.” The raven said, attempting to joke with his slightly monotone voice.

Nichol smiled, squeezing Lasswell. “You’ll get used to it.” He said, kissing Lasswell’s forehead.

The two looked at each other for a moment, before Lasswell muttered that he loved Nichol.

“I love you too, Lasswell. More than words can say. Cheesy as it is.” The silverette sighed, tired and ready to sleep. “Don’t ever leave me.” He whispered to his lover, his voice sweet and yet possessive.

“I won’t. Swear on my honor. A Grandshelt knight never goes back on his word.”

The duo lazily held each other closer, letting the warmth of the blanket envelop them. Faintly, they both recognized that they may have said one or two cringy things--but what did it matter? They were finally together, and no cliché, overused words could ever ruin that.

 


End file.
